


The Accidental Road Trip

by anoptimusofmyown (IrisPerea2004), IrisPerea2004



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Accidental Road Trips, Bonding, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Mild Language, Other, Pining, Road Trips, Short Chapters, Soft Optimus Prime, optimus being a pining dork is my favorite trope, shy reader, you are also a pining dork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/anoptimusofmyown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/IrisPerea2004
Summary: What had been planned as a simple energon scouting mission becomes a cross-country road trip. With Optimus Prime.Yes. You will be stuck with Optimus for upwards of three weeks.Which would be great if you weren't both such pining idiots.
Relationships: Optimus Prime & Reader, Optimus Prime/Reader, Optimus Prime/You
Comments: 77
Kudos: 262





	1. Prelude

"Check."

A light frown line appears between your eyebrows as you make your countering move. Miko was turning out to be surprisingly good at chess, at least when she actually sat still and played.

"Well done," you say ruefully, countering the check with a well-placed bishop. "Check."

Miko glares at the board, as if she could make your pieces surrender by sheer force of will. She swipes a pink-streaked bang out of her face before finally toppling your rook.

_Oh, boy. Time to improvise._ You had _needed_ that rook. 

"You going out with bossbot today?" she asked innocently, just as you inadvertently take an enormous gulp of the over-carbonated soda Jack had brought from K.O.'s. 

You choke, eyes watering and throat burning from the saccharine drink. Soda tries to go down, air tries to come up and you are wheezing over the chessboard, coughing out the soda that tried to murder you and inadvertently ruining your clothes. Miko thumps you on the back.

As you gradually re-emerge from your life-and-death battle with Sprite, you realize everyone is staring at you.

" 'm fine," you gasp. Ratchet and Optimus had stopped their conversation. Both sets of optics are narrowed with ill-disguised concern. "Just took an accidental soda-bath."

With a groan of disgust you survey the sticky, sugary mess you had spat all over your sweater, trying to ignore the prickling flush that crept up your neck at the concern in Optimus' sky-blue optics. 

"So... uh," you chuckle nervously, suddenly very shy. "Back to the game, Miko?"

"Actually, Miko is correct," Optimus rumbles his thundering pedsteps bringing him to the edge of the railing. "I believe you expressed interest in accompanying me on an energon-scouting mission."

You promptly forget to be embarrassed. "You mean you found a possible deposit?"

He nods. "No Decepticon activity has been detected in the area. I believe that 'just this once' you may accompany me."

"That's great!" you exclaim. "I-I mean, thank you, Optimus. I'll try not to get in the way too much."

The very corners of his optics crinkle.


	2. Energon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand I completely bullshitted everything about energon....

The Groundbridge set the two of you down on an old road that ran along through plainsland that was dotted by tiny, wind-wizened shrubs. It was evening; the clouds muffling the already fading light. Mist shrouded the road ahead.

You reach to roll down the windows, then think better of it. Optimus, however, had caught the movement, and obligingly rolls the windows down about halfway.

"So, uh... where's this energon?" you ask as he turns off onto an even smaller dirt track.

"Approxiamately three miles away," he answers. 

_Why didn't we groundbridge there directly?_ was right on the tip of your tongue, before you realise that he _might_ have done it to spend time with you. 

_Oh God in heaven high, don't make him regret this and I'll good, I swear._

Well, the explanation sort of made sense. Jack was always hanging out with Arcee, just like Miko and Bulkhead or Raf and Bumblebee. You and Optimus, on the other hand, rarely, if ever, 'hung out'. He was too busy and you were just one more thing on the list of demands on his time.

Which wasn't to say he didn't care. You treasure the tiny glimpses of warmth in his optics that occasionally glimmer up when he looks at you. And he had offered to bring you along on this trip because you had expressed enthusiam about seeing energon crystals 'one of these days.'

Yeah. He was a really sweet bot.

And neither of you had a single clue about what to say.

Goddamnit, you were probably going to start blathering about the _weather,_ if you couldn't figure anything else out.

"These are some really pretty trees," you blurt, then mentally facepalm. No, scratch that. You mentally slam your face against a massive brick wall, because they are not, in fact, particularly nice trees. They are _barely_ trees.

"They are," Optimus agrees, sounding almost relieved. "I believe they are what you call 'conifers'?"

"Yeah," and the relief that tension has gone down is not enough to hide the fact that you are talking about _goddamned trees._ "Uh...I don't know what species they are, but, uhm... I know that they're probably..." _Think of something, think of something…_ "…yeah, I don't know."

 _God, I'm an idiot._ Your face is burning and you kind of want to sink into the earth and never be seen again. 

"Then you are in good company; for I do not know either," Optimus says, obviously trying for 'reassuring'. It sort of works.

 _Oh, my god, I'm making an idiot of myself in front of Optimus Prime..._ You think, digging your nails into your scalp. _Oh, God, why?_

The Deity declined to answer, possibly being on break.

Awkward silence took over the cab again. You stare out the window, hoping the quiet would eventually become comfortable.

It declined.

"Uh… hey, Optimus?"

He hums a reply to show he was listening. 

"Umm... I know I'm not being great company, but thanks for bringing me along. I really appreciate it." Feeling supremely awkward, you reach forward and pat the dashboard before you can actually think about what you're doing, and then, when the input actually reaches your brain, you turn tomato-red again.

"I… am glad," he says, sounding almost as awkward as you do. "I had hoped that you could enjoy the trip."

 _You big (huge, really), old softie,_ you think affectionately.

The energon manifests itself in a huddle of blue crystals sheltered in the overhang of an enormous cliff. At first, neither the cliff nor the crystals look particularly impressive, but as you get closer, you realize that the smallest crystal could easily dwarf you you and the cliff is enough to make Optimus seem almost toy-like in comparison. 

"Wow," is about all you can manage as Optimus grinds to a halt. Almost as soon as his engine has slipped into 'idle', you're scrambling out of the cabin; the chilly blast of wind promptly making you shiver. You begin to regret leaving your sweater.

You walk right up to the crystals, and put out your hand to touch it before you think better of it. Turning to Optimus, who has already shifted back into his default mode, you ask: "Is it safe for me to touch it?"

"I believe so," he says. "It is almost completely non-reactive in its current state."

And so, you put out your hand again, and very, very nervously, lay it flat on the cool, hard crystal.

Absolutely nothing happens.

You yip victoriously, and stare into the depths of the dark blue crystal. In the fading light, you can barely see some kind of imperfection or inclusion, veins of barely-luminescent material. You wonder if it is liquid energon encased in the crystal.

 _I wonder if my phone-cam would be able to capture this, or if the light's too dim._

You vaguely hear Optimus speaking, probably requesting the rest of the team to groundbridge in, but right now you're concentrating. The phone does work-- barely. 

The green-white light of the Groundbridge flares and Bumblebee and Bulkhead burst through the portal, victorious excitement on both faceplates. You grin and wave, glad to see both in such high spirits.

The operation is remarkably quick. You hoped the speed wasn't indicative of how small the deposit was, but you knew better. At least it was something to bolster reserves; even if it was a drop in the ocean.

Optimus called your name, opening the driver's-side door of his alt-mode so you could scramble in as the convoy bearing energon started through the Groundbridge.

Even with your best efforts, you cannot wipe the victorious, shit-eating grin off your face. You had gotten to spend some quality time with Optimus, found an energon deposit and no 'cons had come to piss on the parade.

_Life doesn't get any better than this._


	3. Well, We're Boned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bullshitting about how the Groundbridge works...

The first thing you were aware of was that you really, _really_ hurt. As in, you felt roughly like you had been fed through a meat-masher, survived an avalanche and then got tossed under a truck for good measure.

You peel your face up from where it had plastered itself onto Optimus' steering wheel, groaning softly. Someone was yelling over the speakers and it _wasn't_ Optimus. 

"Ratchet?" you ask, brow knitting together. "Ratchet, can you hear me?"

He obviously couldn't because he kept yelling. He sounded _scared_ and that terrified you. You fumble for Optimus' CB radio, pray you won't have to screw with it too much and say: "Ratchet, what the hell is wrong?"

The relief in his voice is audible, which freaks you out even more. He's supposed to get grumpy, and grumble at you for scaring him, and he's _not_.

"Y/N? Oh, thank the All-Spark. I take it you're still with Optimus, then?"

"Yeah." You glance around the cab. The sun is setting over the crest of some remarkably barren-looking moutains, and you realize that your headache might not be _entirely_ the fault of whatever catastrophic malfunction had occurred. The air is very thin, wherever you are.

Then a sudden, cold, realization tumbles down on you like a ton of wet snow. "Ratchet, what about the others? What happened to Bumblebee and Bulkhead and Arcee?" You clutch the CB in sudden panic.

"They're fine," he says brusquely, and have to fight off your own wave of relief. _Now_ he was starting to sound like the Ratchet you knew, which made you feel even better. "How's Optimus?"

Another cold dart of panic shoots through your chest. _Fuck_. 

"Optimus?"

No answer. You slap the dashboard, panic humming through your bones. _Be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay..._

"Optimus?" Full-fledged panic hoarsened your voice. "Ratchet, he's not responding! What do I do?"

"Calm down," Ratchet said soothingly. "He's alive. The shock must have knocked him into light stasis."

You swallow a sob. "Okay, what do I do?"

Ratchet sighed. "Wait."

 _Wait. Okay. I can do that._ You rest your forehead on the steering wheel. "So, what happened?" you ask. "And where are we?"

"The power is completely gone," Ratchet said, his frustration clear in his voice. "It's storming hard, and it cut out in the middle of your transport. There is no electricity and the energon feeds are clogged."

"Oh," is all you can think to say. "That doesn't sound good. Are the problems linked?"

"Not so far as I can tell," Ratchet said wearily. "Its just bad luck. Pure and simple."

"And where am I?"

There was a heartbeat of hesitation beforely he answered. "Somewhere around the south of Chilé."

You start swearing.


	4. No, YOU'RE Boned

Your extended tussle with the seamier side of language lasted right up until Optimus woke up and asked, very politely, asked you what was going on.

And you told him.

The stunned silence lasted for approxiamately thirty seconds. 

"That is indeed unfortunate," Optimus says slowly, and you can almost see his optical ridges turning downwards. "Ratchet, how soon can the Groundbridge be back online?"

For a moment, there's no answer, and you hope that Ratchet didn't mute the two of you when you started spouting shrill profanities regarding the past, present and probable future of Jasper's electricity co-op.

"Impossible to tell," Ratchet said gruffly. "When the electricity returns, I'll be able to tell how much damage was done."

"...damage?" you squeak. 

Ratchet sighed. "The power surged just before it went out. The circutry took damage, but I can't tell how much."

_Scrap, bugger and damn it to hell, scrap, bugger and damn it to hell, scrap and bugger and damn it to hell..._

You mantra is interrupted by Optimus.

"We have a long journey ahead of us," he rumbles. "I suppose we should start."

You blink. "What... I thought..."

His engine starts up. "While I have every confidence in Ratchet's abilities, it is... possible that we will have to 'do this the hard way,' as one says."

"Oh. Okay."

Then you realize that you might be stuck in South America, with only the bot you have been heavily, heavily crushing on for company.

_Kill me now._


	5. Goddamn Andes

Finding an actual road was difficult to say the least. With no Wi-Fi, no maps and the inexpert suggestions of everybody at base and second hand directions from Fowler, you were starting to feel like tearing your hair out.

_They mean well, they mean well, they mean well…"_

Good intentions or not, you decide to strangle all of them as soon as you get back as Optimus has stop again, with a nauseating crunch of metal on stone. He tries to move, to get himself unstuck, but in vain. He had apparently beached himself on an overgrown boulder. 

He sighs so deeply you feel it in your bones, and requests that you get out again. 

And so you hop out of the cabin and land in a very ungainly fashion on the pebbly ground. The breath is driven out of your lungs and you try desperately to suck it back in. Optimus changes, slowly, and you wonder if he is affected by the altitude too. 

A gust of very cold wind bursts over the plateau and gooseflesh erupts on your bare skin You lock your teeth together to keep them from clattering together like castanets and squint up at Optimus, who looks just as awful as you feel. 

He's crouched on all fours, exvents are heavy, almost panting. Your eyebrows knit together with concern as you carefully look him over. 

"Sit down," you offer. "Rest for a minute." 

He shakes his helm. "I cannot," he rasps. 

"Optimus," you say warningly. "Sit down and take a breather." 

The notion of _you_ giving an order to _Optimus_ is only ludicrous if you think about it, you decide, and don't. You heave yourself up from your sitting position and look him squarely in the optics, entirely prepared to argue until he _took a goddamn break._

He seemed to recognize your determination and drops his helm, through you can see a tiny smile turn up the corners of his intake. You grin victoriously in return, trying not to shiver too obviously and failing miserably.

With a half-chuckled sigh, Optimus sits back, obviously trying to even out his venting. The brief flash of amusement turned to worry as he looks over at you again.

"Why are you shaking?" he asks, optical ridges dropping into a worried frown. He half extended a servo and then pulled back again, as if afraid to initiate contact with you.

"C-C-Cold, is all," you chatter. "Shouldn't have left my sweater."

Then he does reach for you, knocking you off your feet with one massive but gentle servo. He pulls you close to his chassis, and the metal is so blissfully warm after the scraping chill of wind and thin air. The thought crosses your mind that this is probably about as close to cuddling him as you'll ever get, and you quickly suppress the idea.

"Then I will keep you warm while I rest," he says gravely.

 _You wonderful softie_ , you think, not for the first time, and probably not the last.


	6. Gonna Be A Bumpy Ride

You hadn't realized you were half-asleep until Optimus moved and startled you alert again. Optimus cocked his helm at you, brief concern flickering in his optics.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine," you yawn. "Are we going?"

He got to his pedes, still holding you close to his chassis. "Yes," he said. "With one difference. My alt mode is clearly not... optimized for this terrain."

 _Clearly_ , you think, but keep that to yourself.

"So I will remain in my default form until we find a suitable road."

"Okay," you say, snuggling into his servo. "Let's go, bossbot."

He doesn't run, not really, but the speed is still _much_ better than you had been making. It's a very bumpy ride for you though, and you take a note to thank God that you had never been inclined toward motion sickness.

_This is going to be a very long ride._

When first time he stopped, exvents rasping in the cool evening air, you half-wondered if you'd be deaf forever. The pounding of his massive pedes had dulled your hearing.

You close your eyes, focusing on his voice and realized he was asking you if you were all right.

"Fine," you say, your own voice dim in your ears. "Little trouble hearing, but I'm okay. I'm fine, I promise," you add, louder and more persistently when his optical ridges went down in a worried frown again. "We humans are tougher than you Cybertronians give us credit for, Optimus. So don't start worrying."

"As you wish," he rumbles, bowing his helm.

_And that day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish', what he truly meant was 'I love you.'_

_Shut up!_

Optimus gets to his pedes, exvents finally evening out. "Fowler says there is a road less than a kilometer away." 

"How would _Fowler…_ Actually, nevermind. I don't want to know."

"Perhaps that is wise," Optimus agreed blandly, and you favor him with a sharp glance, trying to tell if he was making fun of you.


	7. Good Morning! Today Is Gonna Suck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% dedicated to Snow_Siren for saying her own Optimus fic was inspired by mine. Excuse whilst I go fangirl to myself.

It was chilly in the cab, despite the heater that Optimus had thoughtfully turned on. You were curled up in a fetal egg on the cot, thanking God, or perhaps, in this case, Primus, that Optimus had a sleeper cab, and even had blankets stored away for the otherwise spartan mattress.

The hum of tarmac under Optimus's wheels pervades the otherwise silent cabin. Your half-lidded eyes turn from studying the ceiling to studying the arid landscape flicking past the windshield.

_C'mon, get up, you slug-a-bed!_ your stomach seems to grumble. Hunger gnaws impatiently at your innards. _All right, all right, I'm going, I'm going…_

"Good morning, Optimus," you mutter, voice hoarse from sleep. 

He hums in reply that resonated with every other sound that his inner workings made. It makes a peculiar, alien, but strangely soothing melody.

You lift your head and fumble yourself upright, trodding on the shoes you had almost been too tired to remove the night before. Your breath tasted horrendous, but what can you really do? You have no toothbrush, no mouthwash, no nothing; not even those stupid little single-use toothbrushes.

 _And_ your cheek is wet. You wipe away the drool, glancing at the damp spot on the mattress. Thankfully, you were still too groggy to be embarrassed, but that was probably going to fade pretty damn fast.

"I don't suppose you have any breakfast hidden away," you say, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I'm starving."

"I am afraid I have no human food," Optimus said.

You flop into the seats. "Figures," you mutter.

"I did not know that... this would happen," Optimus said, sounding almost... hurt. 

"O- I- I didn't mean it like that," you stutter. "I'm sorry."

"No, the fault is mine," Optimus said wearily, almost coolly. You slump down in the seat, feeling stupid.

 _Nice job, bonehead,_ you think. _What a way to start the day._


	8. Breakfast And A Lecture Provided

_You stupid idiot._ Why no, you were not done berating yourself. The awkward silence drew on, made worse ever time your stomach rumbles. _The one greatest chance to spend time with Optimus and you blow it by making feel even worse than he does already._

"Uh... have you heard from Ratchet?" you squeak.

"Yes. He is still assessing the damage," Optimus says. His voice isn't exactly curt or cold, but it seems a bit clipped. You bow your head, cheeks burning. 

_I'm sorry,_ you think, half-angrily. _I can be a tactless little shit sometimes, but I've apologized already, haven't I? God, the one way this morning could get worse would be--_

"PRIME!" roars out over the speakers, making you flinch. Optimus jolts audibly, a discordant _clunk_ making you flinch.

_\--if Fowler called up. Great._

"What's this I hear about you and Y/L/N in _Peru?!"_ Fowler demands.

You hear Optimus sigh softly. "I am afraid that is true," he says wearily.

Fowler's deep breath is audible over the comlink. 

_Oh, shit. Legendary Fowler chew-out incoming,_ you think, and sink deep into the chair.

He was certainly in good form this morning. Allowing no room for a word in edgewise, Fowler began to yell, dwelling on the amount of work that was for _him_ , how dangerous it had been for _you_ , how reckless it had been of _Optimus,_ how he had to come get you...

All right. That was it. You definitely understand where is coming from, but he started calling oit _Optimus_ , he crossed a big red line you hadn't even known you had drawn. Unfolding yourself from the hunched position you had adopted, you begin yelling back.

"Fowler, stop it! He did it for _me_ , all right? I wanted to see the energon, and yes, maybe it was stupid, but for God's sake don't blame Optimus, he feels bad enough all ready!" your throat itched violently, not used to the volume you adopted. "Fowler, I am hungry and thirsty and unless you can do anything about it, just shut up and unless you can do anything about it, _JUST SHUT UP!!!_ "

Both Optimus and Fowler are renderedcompletely silent, very taken aback by your outburst. You subside back into the chair, rubbing your throat. As an afterthought you add: "And I'm staying with Optimus."

Finally Fowler broke the silence by clearing his throat. "...I think I can do something about breakfast, at least."


	9. Spy Caches Are A Real Thing

Optimus pulls up beside a ramshackle hut on a cliff overlooking the road. It's late afternoon and you are starving. A light lunch, missing dinner and no breakfast or lunch was definitely catching up with you.

_First World Problems, anyone?_ you think a little guiltily. 

"So, any deadly traps we need to know about, Fowler?" you ask, hands busy with the seatbelt buckle.

"Not that I can remember," Fowler said sarcastically. "There is the lock though."

"Tell me it's a combination."

"It is. Code is 7-4-1-7-7-6. Go it?"

You supress a bit of a snicker. "Got it." Halfway out the door, you stop and muster a sheepish thanks to Fowler, but don't stick around long enough to hear if he replies. 

Optimus watches from his place beside the shack, and the back of your neck prickles in a way that means he's probably watching you as you fumble eagerly with the lock.

"Please have food, please have food, please have food," you mutter as you impatiently drag the door open and dart inside.

The little shack is lit by the windows that have plastic taped over them instead of glass, and is made up of a room with a faded, stained couch pushed against the wall and a mud-tiled semi-kitchen.

But the mud-tiled semi-kitchen has food _and bottled water_.You grin in pre-emptive victory and hope nothing has expired just yet, at least isn't too far gone.

Flash-cut to you making a good five trips back and forth. You make a mental note to buy Fowler some sort of Christmas present as you dump the last load on the cot and admire your handiwork.

Four different, large bags of mixed dried fruit, four more of nuts, a good six gallons of water, four cans of chili, and three of ranch beans. You know you are grinning and don't care.

"I left a good bit in the shack," you inform Fowler as you pop open the dried fruit and munch on an apricot. The burst of sunny flavour and sweetness fills your mouth and kicks you salivary glands into such high drive it hurts. You are hardpressed not to shove a whole handful into your mouth, and take a swig of water instead.

He laughs. "That's good of you," he says smugly, "but you shouldn't. That cache was deactivated a month ago,"

Your mouth falls open, exposing a very ugly mass of chewed-up prune. "There are _deactivated_ caches?"

"Of course," he says and he is so smug you itch to hit him. "You don't think I'd tell you about an active one?"


	10. Making Up

No sooner had you sat down with a bag of dried fruit in one hand and a water bottle in the other, you were off, Optimus clearly wanting to waste no time in getting back on the road.

Your spirits had risen substantially, boosted by the substantial stash of food and water. Rations were definitely no longer a worry.

One things did trouble you though; things were still moderately tense between you and Optimus. You frown, and pop a creamy-fleshed nut into her mouth. You needed to do something about that, but what? After all, if you were going to be stuck in close quarters for so long, your mutual discomfort needed to be brought down several notches.

The sunset's glare out the window cast punishingly bright light over the right side of your face. You reluctantly set aside the bag, knowing you still need to conserve your resources and take a long drink of the lukewarm and plasticky-tasting wate; still thinking about possibilities.

 _You're overthinking,_ you tell yourself sternly. _Just do it, or you never will._

As you run your tongue around your lips to catch a few stray drops of water, you let your eyes slide shut and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. Then another. And another. 

_Just do it, wimp!_ you scold inwardly, and take aother deep breath, like a diver nerving herself to jump off a cliff.

"Uh, Optimus?" you ask, your voice quavering slightly. You gulp, still tasting the residues of the plasticky water on your tongue.

He rumbles in reply to show he's listening and you begin to nibble nervously on your tongue. You hadn't actually figured out what you were going to say.

"Uhm... Look, about this morning? I didn't actually mean anything when I said 'figures,' or-or at least I wasn't upset at _you..._ well, maybe a little bit, but it was only 'cause I was grumpy and tired and hungry and being petty, and I really hope you aren't terribly upset at me or anything," You pause your rambling apology, trying to sort out an acceptable conclusion. "And, uh, please don't beat yourself up over this whole... er... situation too much. It's not your fault."

He is silent for a moment, and you cringe inwardly. Your mind immediately begins to berate you about it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, should have thought about it more..._

"It is good of you to apologize," he says finally. "But beyond a few moments of... hurt..." he sounds so _awkward_ admitting that your thoughtless word had found a purchase, "I was not 'upset' at you."

"Then why were you acting so... ah… distant?" you demand. Had you really spent all day angsting over something that wasn't really there?

"I was unsure of what to say," he admits quietly. "And I was unsure if you wanted any more of my company than was already forced on you."

You half rise from the chair, only to be stopped short by the seat belt. "Even after I yelled at Fowler?"

"That put the latter of my concerns to rest," he says, and his voice holds warmth and half-thanks that makes heat rise to your cheeks. "But I still suffered from the former."

You collapse back into the chair. "Well, that makes two of us," you sigh. "But... I am glad you aren't mad at me."

The wing mirror cocks toward you. " I could never be," he says softly.


	11. Domestic Squabbles

You did not sleep particularly well. The immediate, primal, needs of bodily nourishment were sated and that left you with quite a bit on your mind. And it was remarkably hard to sleep with a heavy mind.

But at least you had _slept,_ albeit uneasily. Optimus, on the other hand, hadn't stopped once through the whole night. You began to feel vague stirriings-- all right, you were way past vague stirrings. In fact, you were straight to full-blown, mama-hen worrying. You knew Optimus had a martyr streak and guilt complex bigger than most countries and had a sinking feeling that he was probably going to push himself to the point of near collapse because _that's just what he does._ Which was yet another thing on your substantial worry list.

"Good morning," he says politely as you finally drag your half-animated corpse out of bed. The complex melody composed by his inner workings had shifted minutely, and you listen for a moment, trying to pinpoint the change. 

Nope, you were too groggy. Maybe the tarmac texture had changed or something.

" 'Morning," you mutter, surveying the supplies you had so neatly stowed away. No coffee. No coffee maker. No tea bags. No ho water.  
All right. Grogginess is just gonna have to wear off on its own, and hopefully you won' say or do anything stupid.

Unfortunately, that hope is thwarted as soon as you open your mouth. 

"You didn't recharge at all last night, did you?"

He is silent for a moment. "…No," he finally admits, his voice quiet. "I did not."

"Why not?" you say, ignoring the frantic and probably sane voice in the back of your head that is desperately chanting _nononononono_. "That's the third day you haven't slept at all-- at least-- and that _can't_ be healthy, even for you."

"Your concern is gratifying," he says. "But ultimately unnecessary. I am merely doing my best to return us both to Jasper as quickly as possible."

"By running yourself ragged? Optimus, for the love of God-- or Primus-- or whatever, _take a fucking break."_

"I cannot."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I cannot."

" _Yes, you can!"_

"Y/N!"

His tone takes you a bit off-guard. He only barely raised his voice to you, but this is _Optimus_. Optimus almost _never_ raises his voice.

_Damn it, I crossed a line._

"The... situation that you find yourself in is _my_ fault," he insisted. "I _will_ rectify it."

You feel a very strong urge to grab him by his nonexistent collar and shake him; again, ignoring how impossible the idea was. "Optimus," you say, in a tone some would call ominous. "This is honestly the most fun I've had in _ages._ I love road trips and I double-love spending time with my favourite 'bot, _so for the love of God and/or Primus stop acting like a martyr!"_

You subside, realizing you're breathing hard. At least you didn't cough and ruin the effect. Optimus is silent.

"…I am your favourite 'bot?" he finally says, like he can't quite believe that you had said that. 

You snort. "Well who else would it be?"

Given that it was a rhetorical question, you don't mind that he doesn't answer, but his silence made your cheeks prickle and wonder if you had said something you shouldn't have.

"Optimus?"

It took another full second for him to respond. "I… apologize for snapping at you, Y/N." He sounds genuinely abashed, and it very nearly puts a huge, goofy smile on your face. You're definitely getting somewhere.

"I accept your apology," you say, almost sassily.

All was good… until push came to shove and you found yourself arguing with Optimus by the side of the side of the highway.

You glare out the window, arms crossed. "Optimus. Go. The fuck. To sleep."

His sigh of your name _definitely_ sounds exhausted. "I cannot," he insists. 

"Yes, you can," you stubbornly insist, repeating your words earlier that morning. 

"I can still function for several more cycles without recharge," he counters.

You raise an eyebrow. "You _can_ but that doesn't mean you should." You're probably pushing it, but damnit, he needs to sleep, and if you could talk _Ratchet_ into taking a break (even if it was just one time), you can bully _Optimus_ into sleeping.

"Y/N," he begins. "You are not my only concern. I am leader of the autobots, and I must return to them with all the speed I can muster."

You pause, contemplating his admittedly very good point. "Yes," you admit. "But not the expense of your own well-being. As of now, there are no emergencies and you can still contact everybody. After all," you grimace slightly, "we've-- they've managed without you before. Ratchet did fine then, he'll do fine now."

He hums contemplatively. Your face twitches, but even though victory is on the horizon, you don't allow a grin yet.

The silence stretches as he thinks about the points you've made to him. You remain standing in the cab, arms folded and face resolutely made up. You're going to make him sleep if it kills you.

"…Very well," he rumbles at last. "You have made some excellent points. I bow to your demands."


	12. Bad Dreams

Wrapped as you were in the clammy embrace of a nightmare, you did not thrash melodramatically through the blankets, did not mutter half-slurred words through the veil of the nightmare. In fact, you gave very little sign of your subconscious distress. And when you woke up, you did not bolt dramatically upright, you eyes did not fly open and you did not gasp as if you had been running. 

But for all that, it had been one _hell_ of a horrible dream.

You stared into the silvery, predawn half-light, waiting for your pounding heart to calm down. When it declined, you got up, and groped your way to one of the water bottles that you had stuck in one of Optimus' cupholders, mopping at your sluggishly leaking eyes. 

"What is it?" Optimus rumbled over the speakers.

You froze, the bottle halfway to your mouth. Now you woke him up. Perfect. 

"It's nothing. I'm fine," you mutter. "Sorry I woke you."

The dashlights glow into the darkness as the AC kicks up. First cool, then warm air washes over you. 

"I do not mean to pry," he said gently. "But are obviously not, in fact, 'fine.' "

The caring tone he's taking with you is just a little too much for you right now. "Just a nightmare." Did Cybertronians have nightmares? Did they dream? "A bad dream."

"Ah."

You turn back to the cot. "I- I'll be fine, Optimus."

"Y/N."

"What?"

"You are crying."

"I'm fine," you repeat. "Go back to sleep, Optimus."

The AC rattles with something like a sigh. "As you wish," Optimus says softly, sounding almost sad. The dash and AC shut off again, leaving you in silence and darkness, feeling somehow worse than you had before


	13. Dreams

It was quieter than usual that morning. As if in reflection of your mood, the sky is obscured by pale, pearl-grey clouds. Not angry, not sullen, just... quiet. Placid. That's all.

Right. That's what you're thinking, and even you aren't particularly cnvinced. 

You huff a quiet sigh and brace your arm against the windowsill, fingers absentmindedly stroking the seam where the door met the ceiling. Giving your fingers something to do partially freed your mind to wander.

 _So this will be what, third time I've apologized now? God, I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't want anything more to do with me after this._ Your chest feels hollow at the thought. You absolutely, _goddamn adore_ the big softie, but apparently you suck at showing it.

 _Maybe I should just try harder. I should at least suck it up and apologize... again_.

"Hey, Optimus?"

 _God, I gotta stop starting my mornings like this,_ you reflect. _It'll be a very uncomfortable few weeks if I don't._

You realize you said it out loud at around the same time that Optimus starts laughing. Not like any full-blown guffawing, but a soft chuckle that you promptly decide was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. 

It still doesn't keep the blood from fizzling straight up to you face. "I don't think I meant to say that out loud."

"Perhaps not," he agreed. "But you should stop apologizing in the areas where the fault is clearly mine. I should not have pushed you to confide in me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I was just tired and grumpy." You snuggle into the warm seat. "Nightmares tend to do that to me."

You were quiet for a moment, and then asked, very tenatively: "Do Cybertronians get nightmares?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replies somberly. "I do not know how or why. Perhaps Ratchet does."

You nod slowly. "I...see. Yeah, they suck."

He hums in agreement.

"We do need to stop starting our mornings like this though."

"Agreed."


	14. Road Rages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for being held at gunpoint.
> 
> Dedicated to HylianEngineer, whose comments helped me power through finishing this chapter.
> 
> Also SS_Shitstorm dropped the rest of Fortuna Primigenia and I am fucking SHOOK. (If you're reading this and don't know what FP is, stop what you are doing and GO READ IT. Maybe finish the this chapter first, but hot damn, go read Fortuna Primigenia.)

Of course the world would pick the one of the nights you had finally convinced Optimus to _get some fragging recharge_ as the one that it would through road pirates in your face.

It was completely dark when your eyes snapped open and you stared into the darkness, wondering what you had heard and if you had actually heard it.

_Clu-unk._

Okay, you definitely _had_ heard that one. You sit up, heart thudding double time against your chest. 

"Optimus?" you quaver into the darkness.

The door swings open just as the dashlights flicker alive.

"¡No te muevas!" a voice barks, issuing from a shape vaguely silhouetted against the starlight that filters through Optimus' windshield. And of course the dome light flicks on, bathing the cab in sudden, shockingly bright light. You squint against the yellow glare, squint into the olive-skinned face of a man with a gun pointed in your face. Your heart unfreezes and takes up the thudding tattoo against your ribcage. _Oh my God._ You stare up into the man's face, and he stares right back and Optimus is completely silent. The three of you form a silent tableau but you have no intention of enjoying it. You rack your brain for what rudimentary Spanish you've managed to retain.

"¿Qué...uh...Qué deseas?"

He blinks. 

"What the fuck do you want?"

The tone at least, he seems to understand. He lets loose a very fast string of Spanish you only half understand, but you hear 'money' a few times.

"I don't have any money."

He stares at you.

"No…no dinero. No dinero," you falter.

His eyebrows draw down into a scowl and you belatedly realze that is one of the most terrifying incidents in your life, even if it wasn't _The_ Worst™. Yet.

"Get up," he growls in heavily accented English. 

"OK, OK, OK," you yelp as he gestures impatiently with the gun. "I'm going."

You get to your feet, your teeth worrying a dent in your tongue. Frankly, you have no idea what to do and less idea of how you'll do it, and the only thing that's really stopping you from all-out panicking is that it is a human, not a Cybertronian pointing a gun at your face, which means the situation _might_ be workable.

"Keys' he says. "Keys."

A jolt of panic lances through you because you don't actually know if Optimus even has keys. What need would a sentient truck have of keys?

You sir there, absolutely terrified, mind racing at a million miles an minute. There was nothing Optimus could do without risking exposure. You were on your own and he was effectively helpless.

 _God-fucking -damnit_.

"Keys!" he repeats insistently, leaning forward to yank you up by the arm. 

"OK, OK, I'm looking!" you yelp, feeling the cold muzzle of his pistol press between your shoulderblades. _Shit, shit, shit, what do I do now?_

_Really hope he doesn't have a twitchy finger._

_Not helping!_

You rifle through the cupholders, hands shaking harder than you thought was humanly possible. No keys. Under the floor mats. Nothing. In the sunshade. No luck.

The bandit was growing impatient. He snarled something in unintelligible Spanish.

A cool, detatched voice in the back of your head interrupted your frantic musings, cutting off your panic with a single, sharp bite. _He's new to this, isn't he?_

Your mind struggles against this sudden invasion of rationality. You _want_ to panic and go on panicking, you don't.

_Letting you root around like this. What if you had a weapon?_

_But I don't._

_But if I did..._

Unfortunately, however, sentient trucks that drive themselves don't keep tire irons around. Or wrenches. You could really use a wrench to throw, Ratchet-style, at this slagging road bandit.

Throwing a punch at him is completely out of the question. You wouldn't even get halfway there before you wound up with a bullet in your chest, and you are _not_ subjecting Optimus to even more trauma.

You need a distraction.

And the perfect one crosses your mind. It'll be a bit chancy, but it'll probably work. Probably.

"Optimus," you whisper. "Can you hear me?"

Out of the corner of your eye you see the dashlights dim for a moment. _I'll take that as a yes._

"When I say, turn on your engines. I have an idea."

You stand up slowly, turn around, and say 'Now,' as levelly as you can.

The engine _roars,_ and even though you were expecting it, even you startle a little; but you grab that adrenaline and twist it into action as you lurch forward, knocking the gun from his loosened grasp and throwing him against your cot. His head cracks against the edge of the cot as you sweep the gun up and level it at his dazed form.

He stares at you, not quite able to comprehend how quickly have turned. For your part, you are breathing hard and in a minute your knees are gonna go rubbery and you're probably going to collapse.

Not before this creep gets out though. You lock your knees and glare at the man.

"Get out of the car," you growl.c


	15. Sleepless Night

Obviously, there was absilutely no sleeping after that. As soon as the unlucky road bandit fell out of the cab, Optimus had kicked straight into gear and tore down the road like a startled tiger. 

For a moment you stood there, just staring out the dark window, the heavy pistol still clenched tight in your double-fisted grip. Then you carefully place the gun on the dashboard and drop into the driver's seat, suddenly as limp and shaky as an electrocuted jellyfish.

"Oh my God," you whisper, resting your forhead on the rim of the steering wheel. In your chest, you could feel your heart going like a hardbass rhythm line. "Holy shit."

"Are you all right?" Optimus asked, sounding surprisingly shaky, and also surprisingly intense. 

The truthful answer was 'no,' but you would honestly rather swallow your own tongue than admit that. "Yeah," you lie, your own voice a lot shakier than you liked. "Just... ah... Just give a minute. Holy shit."

"Forgive me," Optimus rumbled, his voice steadying, but now coloring with the all-too-familiar strains of stoic self-deprication. "I--"

"Optimus," you interrupt without looking up from the floormats. "Stop blaming yourself. Please. I'm fine, we're both fine, it went as well as it could have. It wasn't your fault."

For a moment silence returns, as tangible as as shadows but just as threatening. Then, almost too low to hear, Optimus murmers your name, softly, almost like a prayer for all the care and reverence that reverberates through his voice. 

"(Y/N)," he says, "I... was scared. All I could do was watch, helplessly. Nothing I could think of would have kept you safe, and would have instead prompted the very thing I had hoped to avoid." The entire cab seemed to shudder. "If he had... If I had been forced to watch and feel your life disappear because of my action or inaction, I do not believe I could have forgiven myself."

"Optimus--"

"Had you perished at that thief's hands, I would have broken my vow to never directly harm a human," he said. His voice was so frighteningly steady that it took a second for you to realize what he had said. "I would have broken one of my most sacred oaths-" his vocal processor seemed to short out and he made no attempt to continue.

For a moment you couldn't tell if you were getting a severe attack of butterflies or about to throw up. You tried to figure out something to say but discovered there was really nothing to say.

"You should go back to sleep," Optimus said wearily.


	16. Proceed With Caution

So.

You didn't sleep.

How could you, really when you had just defeated a road pirate and heard that the gigantic alien robot war leader/space pope you've been crushing on say that he would have broken one of his most sacred oaths for you? Yeah, good friggin' luck with sleeping after that. You ha fallen asleep exactly one (1) time and promptly woken up after some very weird dreams.

You didn't try talking to him either. He was miserable, you miserable, and if he had even tried, your heart would have probably falcon punched itself straight out of your chest. You were still trying to figure out how to deal your way out of this pile of awkwardness and misery; but knowing you, you'd probably blurt something and make it even worse and then find yourself apologizing _again._

You turn over on the cot and stare at the greying dawn sky. At least the last few times you had found yourself apologizing awkwardly in the mornings it had mostly turned out all right.

You sit up and decide, without really realizing it, to do something your conscious mind would usually think of as being monumentally stupid.

"Hey, Optimus," your voice cracks, like it would after you hadn't used it at all for eight hours. _Fuck you, voice._ "You know, I haven't had a chance to stretch my legs in days. So I had a thought."

And while your conscious mind is still trying to figure out what you had just said and the common-sense half of your mind is still running to catch up, screaming 'NO' at the top of its non-existent lungs, your sleep-deprived and absolutely _done_ half has grabbed the wheel and is taking you straight for unknown and very frightening territory.

"Yes?" Optimus says warily.

"I'd really, really like it if you could pull over somewhere, 'cause you and I have a lot to talk about."

Which is how you find yourself sitting on the edge of an escarpment, a few feet away from an inexplicably much smaller Optimus Prime. When he had shifted from alt to default forms, he had also, after a moment's thought, reduced his size in a flurry of small movements that greatly resembled transformation. You added it to the mental list of things to ask Ratchet about.

"So," you say, gazing at the pink-flushed sky and pale hils. "We... ah... we need to talk."

"So you told me," he rumbled. His voice hadn't changed at all, even though his size had. He was only about twice a tall as you were in this particular... form, but that still meant a lot more inches than you, and was only slightly less intimidating than his regular size.

"Yeah," you fiddle nervously with your hands.. "I… uh… I guess we should probably start with the fact that you think I'm worth breaking one of your most important vows for."

Optimus just stares into the sunrise. So quietly. You swallow, your heart threatening to jump straight out of your mouth. 

"Very well," he says, slowly, not without trepidation. "I… where would you like me to begin?"

 _I have absolutely no idea._ "Anywhere that would make the most sense to my squishy sleep-deprived mind."

"Very well." Awkward and shy is a very strange look for a millenia-old metal face, but damn if it isn't downright adorable. Then you remember that you probably look much the same. Minus the adorable. "In the time since we have... begun working more closely with humans, you have all become friends, and... more. Family. I have come to care for all of you, in different ways."

"Yeah." You brace yourself against the rock and stare into the sunset. "I wish I could put it as nicely as you can, but I... guess I can't really imagine life without you guys either."

"Thatt is not all, however," he adds gravely. "I believe that we should also define exactly what sort of 'love' you feel for me."


	17. Take  a Chance

You can't move. Or talk. Or breathe. Your entire body has seized in a strange limbo somewhere between 'help' and 'oh God, oh shit, oh fuck

"Are you all right?" Optimus asks, evidently noticing your blue-screening.

_No._ "How do you know?"

"You talk in your sleep," he answers simply, and you choke a little bit.

"We couldn't talk about anything easier?" you ask, sound a little bit strangled. 

He stood. "Walk with me," he requested. "Perhaps I could help by defining my own feelings for you."

You gulp, trying desperately to dislodge the hard ball of apprehension that had lodged itself firmly in your throat and take his outstretched hand that he offers to help you up. "Yeah," you whisper. "That sound great."

"Very well." His huge metal fingers close around your small, fleshie ones and he gently helps you to your feet, and then turns back toward the sunrise. "I... care for you, very much. As I said, I believe that what I feel for you in my Spark is what you humans term romantic love."

"And what do Cybertronians call it?" you ask, more to stall for time than anything else.

He responds with incomprehensible but beautiful string of Cybertronian. When you blink, uncomrehendingly, he looks away again. "To translate it literally would be a complicatrd endeavour." 

He halts, and so does the conversation. Trying to egg it on again, you ask: "Why are you only telling me about this now?"

"Because I was and still am reluctant to undertake a romantic relationship with you," he says bluntly.

_Ouch._

"Okay. Why?" you ask, trying very hard to rid your voice of a traitorous wobble. _This is really gonna hurt_.

He stops and turns toward you, bright blue optics painfully gentle. "We are of two different species. I do not know your cultural and... physical... expectations; you do not know mine. I do not want either one of us to inadvertently hurt the other, physically or otherwise. And," he adds before you can open your mouth, "I confess that I have spent many bad recharge cycles worrying over what would happen to you if Megatron discovered your importance to me."

You swallow. "Okay," you say. "Fair enough. You've given me the reasons why we shouldn't, now I can give you the reasons why we should. Fair enough?"

He nods.

"Okay. Feel-- feel free to disagree or anything. Just... I don't know, hear me out."

"Of course."

"Okay. Uh. Here goes." You take another deep breath, like a diver preparing for the jump. _Shit._ "Okay, I really can't refute anything you said. I just have a thought."

"Go on."

"We still have the rest of this road trip to spend together. Couldn't we... I don't know... take this whole idea of having a relationship on a sort-of test-drive while we're alone... well, together? Work out the kinks, see if we're 'compatible.' You know."

He is quiet, not quite meeting your eyes. Thinking.

"Perhaps we could make that work," he says slowly. "I am willing, to try, at least."


End file.
